Payday: Divided
by JoeyJr133
Summary: Not really sure what I wanted to do when making this. I had been really getting into the game so though fuck it. I read some other fanfics and saw they were pretty decent so I gave it a shot. Hopefully I can actually get to finishing this as I might forget though who knows. Hopefully, I will receive relatively positive feedback but if you have a genuine criticism, don't be shy!
1. Divided

It had been a month or so since anything particularly exciting happened and that was when Jacket and Sokol got into a fight over some personal stuff which led to a fire in the hockey area which had to get fixed. Bain had gone quiet after several bad jobs which burned a hole in everyone's pocket. Most of the gang had gone to their own apartments and/or slums apart from Dallas, Sangres, Chains and Clover with Aldstone to keep company and make half-awkward conversation every so often. Dallas was looking into his own jobs as nothing was coming up. He mugged a gas station in a ski mask but the clerk ended up dead and there wasn't even $1000 dollars in the whole store so that was bust. Cleaners are expensive.

Chains and Sangres kept to themselves, not knowing what to do with themselves. Sangres had been buying more alcohol than he could afford and Chains was an all out recluse, occasionally greeting one of the few members that held on for dear life, praying something would hopefully come through but nothing. It was rather depressing.

Clover was barely in and she usually hung out in the shooting range out of boredom. It was desperate.

Dallas only kept in touch with Hox who was considering to try his luck back in London as there were more opportunities there than in Washington DC. It was picked clean. The local economy was ghastly and people were moving in fear of getting killed thanks to the rather itchy trigger-fingers of The Payday Gang and Wolfs habit of beating passerbys senseless.

The Dentist had gone quiet not sure how to approach The Payday Gang after it had fallen into disarray, Simmons was under investigation after info leaked that there was something big going on behind the scenes, Vlad was on vacation to Ukraine to visit relatives and eat borscht, Locke had cold feet after Murky began losing lots of money on The Payday Gang without much in return and The Butcher was ready to give up on the gang seeing how unorganized they were and how little they could stand on their own feet; she even pulled Dragan back to Croatia knowing he would be a lot more useful there than in DC.

They had to lay low till everything was back the way it was and the cops would finally run out of manpower which never seemed to happen. Dallas considered dragging everyone to Chicago or California or maybe New York but that would mean they would have to get new contacts and a new would have to be made specifically for New York. Even getting everyone there would be challenging as Jacket was back in Miami, Sokol went up north for the hockey scene, Dragan was in Croatia (obviously), Houston was off the rader which worried Dallas, Wolf could have been runway modeling or dealing arms to Iraq for all he knew, Sydney also went to Florida but only for the weather, Hoxton was living in Chicago ready to board the next plane to England, Bonnie apparently stayed with Clover when she was gone but as for her location nothing could be brought up, Bodhi went to California as did Jiro to find his son who was apparently living there. Jimmy had gone on a cocaine filled bender around Mexico so it was hopeless.

Or was it...


	2. Do What Comes Natural

Jacket looked at the sunset he was so used to seeing all those years ago. Driving in the DeLorean soaked in Russian blood, ordering pizza or watching a movie, arriving home to a clean apartment with the company of a kidnapped girl who might have had Stockholm Syndrome. He always preferred instant gratification rather than long time rewards so robbing banks came naturally. Thank God the US never escalated into full blown nuclear war... Certain areas were still irradiated and you weren't allowed to go but other than that, it was the same. Beside him was Sydney, who he met coincidentally on the beach enjoying the irradiated sunrise. Rather strange how things turn out in the end.

* _beep_ * _you have *one* new message. *click* "Hi, this is Sue from the shop. We need you over at 22nd & Est Street ASAP. Make sure to bring your tools!"_

 _Richard took his silenced SMG and made his way to the address of the Russians. It was routine at this point. Enter, kill, exit, repeat._

 _He kicked the door off the hinges straight onto a Russian. He proceeded to bash his head against the wall till he was convulsing and gargling his own blood: all routine. Richard continued into the next room and sprayed it, killing all mobsters inside. More came out of the next door so he just fired away: all routine. He was just doing what came natural. It was like that four three floors. He gouged a guys eyes out with his thumbs, strangled a Russian with a telephone cable and drowned a particularly large Russian in a bathtub: all routine. Final floor had one guy. As Richard entered, he jumped out of the window, knowing what Richard would do would be a lot worse than a fall from a building._

Richard _made his way back to the DeLorean and got to bask in that same beautiful sunset he had seen many times over..._

Jacket woke to his phone ringing loudly, serving as an alarm clock. Jacket was never a liability (not usually) and had always served well. He could pull off just about anything with the right gear from picking the Murkywater Warehouse clean to storming the FBI office single handedly and walking out with barely a scratch so it was where Dallas would start.

"Hey Jacket... I need to get us back together and I need you. Do you know where any of the others are?"

' _Sydney is a tow- *click*. Location known.'_ The feminine voice replied mechanically.

"Do you know where?"

' _Miami, Florida is wi-*click*. The home is-.'_

 _"Wait, with you?"_

 _'You are correct. Please accept your prize.'_ He had the voice say, adding that end part just to be a dick.

Dallas sighs over the line.

' _In some cultures, sighing is believed to shorten ones lifespan and is frowned upon. This was widely accepted throughout the 1500s.'_

 _"_ Okay, quit being an asshole. Could you put Sydney through?" Dallas asks, annoyed.

' _Sydney i-*click* sleeping can be beneficial for ones health, releasing stress and relaxing muscles *tape rewind*. Please accept this notion.'_

 _"_ But it's five in the afternoon!"

' _Sleep deprevation is more common than you may think. 1 in 6 young adults are affected by sleep deprevation due to stress and prolonged periods of work without rests. Insomnia is often a symptom of greater mental health issues. Insomnia may be a side effect of medication: please see your local doctor if you suffer from sleep deprevation.'_

 _"_ Yeah, I got the message..." he says in an aggravated tone. "Well I'm trying to get the gang back so if you want to help, get back to DC by this week."

'V _acations are a great way of relaxation, see the back of the pamphlet for more deta-*click*.'_

 _"_ It's been two months! 'Vacation' is over! I need you people."

' _This can be arrang- *tape rewind* *click*.'_

Dallas hung up the phone feeling like he accomplished something and he did. Now, on to Hoxton. This was gonna take longer than he had originally intended it to be.

 **Yeah, I'm all for that not even lowkey Jacket x Sydney but I am keeping this story about...the story and not fucking romance so calm your tits, ya hooligans.**


	3. Talking Heads

"So, what do we do now?" Houston asks over a cup of coffee made from Johns luxury coffee.

"I could go back to my hitman thing but I'm getting a little old for that line of work."

"We could freelance."

"Just the two of us?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Just the two of us? No chance in Hell. We would get seized the moment we stepped foot outside with the wrong intentions. Maybe if we brought Chains along..."

"Isn't he a bit of a nut?"

"The guy is a vet. Get off his ass."

"Sorry bro, I did know you were that close."

"It's alright."

"Well okay... Say we do grab Chains and whoever else you need. We could do our own thing. No Bain, no Vlad, no bullshit."

"You would just leave your brother like that? Fucked up if you ask me."

"Hey, fuck yo-"

"Shut up. You'll wake Rosie."

Houston grunts and finishes his coffee. "I better head to the couch..."

"That would be best."


	4. Slowly But Surely

Hoxton didn't want to leave. Despite his gruff exterior, he still did care for the gang and wanted everyone to be together but this... This was different. He could deal with fights and botched jobs and getting shot but it was more than a rough patch. It was quite different. They fucked up both The Benevolent and First World within the same week: They were overestimated. Dallas got shot by an armor piercing round in the shoulder and almost died. Twitch was killed and both vans were destroyed so it was a long walk home. Hox just didn't see a way this could work out despite his best hopes. Maybe a little reassurance was all he needed...

"Hello? How did you get this number?" Hoxton asked grimly

"Jim, it's me. You know where I am leading to with this so I'm gonna cut the bullshit; We arent gonna get jack shit done all separated like this. Sitting on our hands isn't gonna get anything done and I hope you can help. You a-" Dallas was cut off

"Look mate, I understand what you are trying to do but this... Isn't working. I can't work when you wankers are always fucking something up. It's been fucking three months and Bain has turned up jack shite. I'm done. We've just lost our touch."

"I assumed you would be a bit more positive about this all. You've been here since the beginning "

"You guys seemed to forget that."

"Look, I'm sorry we couldn't get you out sooner but I can't do anything if you're still bitter."

"You were real quick to replace, weren't you? Bloody Hell... How long did you wait before renewing me? A month? A week? The morning after?"

"Jesus..." Dallas thinks of what to say next. "We got you out in the end... I just want this group whole again and you are a catalyst to that process."

"I-I-I'll see. But I need something to come through here. I want to do The Benevolent. All of us.."

"What? You remember what happened last time."

"Every single one of us. We can't fuck up with numbers that big.""

"If you were serious, that would be a bitch to organize."

"We can work out the gritty shit later."

"So are you in, Jim?"

Hoxton paused for a moment, still debating what to do. There were many positives and negatives for both sides. "If we do something big."

"I promise you."

"Who else do you have with you?"

"Sangres, Chains and Clover are at the safehouse. Jacket is with Sydney in Miami and they should be coming this week. I asked Bain about my little brother and I am waiting for him to get back to me."

"Fucking wanker." Hox muttered under his breath

"Now isn't the time for petty shit, Hox."

"Bloody Hell. Look, I'll be at the house in a couple weeks; I still have shit to deal with."

"It's been a couple months. How have you roped yourself into shit already?"

"It's a long fucking story but know that I will be there."

Hoxton hung up and put on some casual clothes. He took a small handgun and exited his small apartment and into his small car down a small street. He had shit to take care of.


	5. Talking Heads: Chapter 2

**So, Talking Heads is basically dialogue that weren't all that important for the chapters so I cut them and now stick them here. Think of this as an interlude between every couple chapters. You don't really have to read these but they give insight as to the thoughts of the characters as they talk (that's why it is called talking heads: talking heads is a scene where two or more characters just talk). Though I may give some exposition here and there but nothing too important.**

"So, let me get this straight. You got to wake up everyday, put up a mask, kill mobsters, order pizza then revcieve a cheque in the mail?"

' _Correct.'_

"Fucking insane!" Sydney cackles. She thinks about being in Jackets shoes back in that time, living out life like that. _"You shouldn't indulge on you heinous acts like that, have I not taught you better?" Richard asked condescendingly in Sydney place, mask and all._

 _Jacket stayed silent, knowing this wasn't real._

 _"You're name is not Jacket."_

 _He remained still._

 _"You are responsible."_

 _"For what?" Jacket asked, his voice same as his cassette player. "Being forced to kill or leading the destruction of Miami?"_

 _"This is much bigger." He was talking to himself and he knew this._

 _He glared at Richard with disdain._

 _"You know how this must end."_

 _"I've defied fate before. How am I sittng hereally now?"_

 _"This road ends in blood." Richard finishes with. Sydney returns._ "Jacket? Jacket?!"

He snapped awake and glanced at Sydney, signalling he was indeed still alive.

"The 'Ghost Wolves'?! You were alive back then. Do you know anything about them?"

' _The Ghost Wolves were an elite military unit which operated during the Russo-American War of 1985 in Honolulu, Miami that captured 5 Soviet strongholds and a power plant with just the four of them. Two were killed and one injured. The identities of these men at u- *click*. The Masked Maniac Murders were a ser-.' He looked at her, hoping she would connect the dots._

 _"_ Erhm...what?"

' _The Ghost Wolves *tape rewind* identiti- *click*. Masked Maniac M-'_

"Not following..."

Jacket sighed, feeling that he could show at least that much of his voice.

 **Well, anyone who doesn't know about the lore of Hotline Miami will not understand the bulk of this paragraph so damn.**


	6. Predator

Hoxton felt so old. He had something just short of a beard because he couldn't step outside to buy a razor without getting shot at by a new set of Cobras that had rial led things up in Chicago and, after learning one of the Payday gang was there, had Hoxton on a bounty. The only thing he took with him when he left was his suit, a ballistic vest, his mask and a copy of it as well as a Bronco with a snub barrel.

That phone call changed him. He had a little bit of faith in the Payday gang now and always wanted to go on a crime spree with every one of the gang. It was unlikely and rather farfetched so he was smarter than to get his hopes up. Either way, he wanted to exterminate the set for good just to duck with the Cobras more than anything. So he got ready; what has we getting into?

'Oh Jim, don't fuck this up.'

He stepped outside, heading towards a known Cobra hideout. It felt liberating just defying them by walking down the street not caring whether he would end up in a coffin or not. But something didn't feel right. Usually they were cruising around or acting tough in alley ways but they vanished. Maybe they were expecting it and had an ambush waiting. Or maybe they got busted by the cops. The latter would have done him well as he wanted to take them all out himself.

'You're better than this, you fuckin psycho.'

Two thugs layed lifeless in an alley under a pool of blood and dirty water. Nails were in their heads and bodies as well as ones shoulder being close to falling of. It was fucking brutal. Turned out that was the alley leading to the Cobra hideout. As Hoxton edged closer into the alley, he found the small door leading inside was already opened and a more horrifying visa laid in the hallway just ahead of him. More thugs had them same. Some had their heads split in two while others were covered in holes as well as more with nails. Shell casings were on the floor implying there was a fight as there was a trail of blood leading up the spiral stairs further into the hideout.

As Hox got closer and closer, a loud scream and what sounded like a gunshot followed by whirring burst into Hoxton eardrums. A body dropped down from the top. It startled him but he felt like carrying on for this was intriguing him despite all sense's telling him to turn back. Who the fuck could have done something like this? A real psycho... that's who.

He continured up the stairs and more of them laid lifeless as he progressed up. There were also doors occasionally besides the stairs that were also opened. Hoxton didn't want to look as he knew what would be inside. The stails felt like they went on forever as the winded up to the top.

"No no no no please man! I-I-I-" bang!

From the top it split into to hallways that each went opposite of each other. The screams came from the right and the left seemed cleared, the walls given a new coat of red.

Right it was... but what the fuck could have done anything like this?!


	7. Canine

**This kind of blew up over night. Wow...**

It wasn't long before more screams could be heard along with that same bone-chilling shot followed by whirring. Seed to be a nail gun. The blood from downstairs was still warm so whoever did this had to have rushed through this in an extremely short amount of time and considering the amount of people that were slumped over lifeless, he was either a super-soldier or invincible -maybe both-.

"What the bloody Hell 'appened here?" He asked loudly, hoping to draw 'its' attention. But it just didn't stop. There were less screams now and it eventually stopped in what seemed like forever.

"Hox?" 'It' asked. The voice was very familiar and... Swedish.

"W-Wolf?" Hoxton ran forward down the hall and towards his voice, wanting to reunite with his lost friend. Wolf was the first to leave, wanting to fulfill his violent urges independent from the Payday gang a's they weren't killing anytime soon by looks of it (and boy, was he right).

The maniac stepped out of the last room that seemed to house any Cobras from this set. He opened the door right next to Hoxton and it nearly gave him a heart attack.

"Fuck!"

Wolf was head to toe in blood, holding a nail gun in one hand and a small grenade launcher in the other, a small axe in sheath. "Hey buddy. Did I crash your party?"

"Before it even began, you wanker." He wanted to hug him but didn't want to look too weak or possibly gay. Hoxton took his mask off and Wolf wasn't wearing one.

Wolf shook his hand then looked back at his nail gun. "There are more upstairs." He tossed the grenade launcher to Hoxton.

"Fucking Hell."

"On you."

Hoxton put his mask back on and walked down another long hallway which wasn't soaked in blood -a change he accepted with open arms- with one poorly made staircase leading towards a small door which blend in slightly with the wall. Faint murmuring could be heard from behind it, implying they were waiting to ambush whoever this maniac was. Both Wolf and Hoxton had the same idea. Hox aimed the grenade launcher at the door and-

BOOM!

"Fuck!" Hoxton yelled as organs and flesh hailed towards him. Wolf just stared and chuckled.

They both continued forward, Hoxton now holding his revolver. He missed doing this sort of thing with the gang. Wolf sped past Hox, his blood flowing and ready to take more. He kicked down a door with ease and slaughtered the room with his small axe, making sure to keep each death as painful as the last. He kicked the door directly onto a Cobra that had ran from the explosion then jumped from person to person, hacking and slashing at them before they had time to react let along fire. It took 20 seconds for that room to become devoid of life thanks to one man.

Suddenly, bullets came flying from the wall of the next room that was facing the one Wolf was in. He ducked for cover but was shot several times though nothing severe (they had only made him worse). But before Wolf could exact his revenge, Hoxton had already gave a bullet to each of the mean in there, leaving one for Wolf by only shooting him in the kneecap.

The one left alive was now slumped on the wall opposite the door, directly facing the pissed off Wolf. He grabbed Hoxton by the arm and took the grenade launcher from his hands violently and grinned in a way that only a man as damaged as Wolf could. He stared at the one Cobra left with dead eyes, knowing what to do. He fired the grenade launcher again and-

BOOM!

That entire was dissappeared, the room now open looking down onto the street where passerbys watched in horror a's bits of wood, shrapnel and human flesh fell from the sky. He laughed like a psychopath and went back to the hallway where Hoxton had taken care of the other two rooms opposite the ones Wolf had cleared.

"This place is a fucking maze!" Wolf yelled as further down, the hallway split in two separate directions.

"What the fuck did you do in there?!" Hox asked in horror then opened the door that that room to find a wall was literally fucking missing. "Holy fuck." He walked out and back to Wolf.

"I'll go left.."

"Fine."

Wolf looked back at Hoxton, still smiling, and they went their separate ways.

Wolf took left. He was ready for more violence but found all the rooms empty. They were definitely lived in as the rooms were all a mess. Maybe they left after hearing the explosions. Well, the more grouped in one place the better. The hallway continued with a sharp left and to the sides he found much of the same: trashed and empty rooms. Occasionally he found a stash of assault rifles or uncut cocaine so he knew that they weren't empty. All this bored Wolf would he sped up to the end where one single door was. Again, murmuring could be heard at the back but this time, they didn't wait. God knows how many Cobras spilled out into the small corridor and opened fire but Wolf jumped into a room and barricaded the door with a refrigerator and a light couch on top. It wouldn't be long before they either busted through the doors or shot through the walls so he had to devise a plan and fast. He could only fire the grenade launcher once as it was a slow reload and everything else would start in that time, definitely getting him killed. He thought of it as a game in turns. A grenade launch and reload takes one turn as does killing a group of Cobras. They were definitely in the opposing rooms getting ready. Or he could skip the turn and let things play out. It would take two turns to get the door open and one turn to shoot through the walls, killing everything through and through. So if he took cover for both sides, they would kill each other, then he could shoot through one of the walls and kill any survivors, take a gun and spray the rest of them.

It happened like clockwork: Wolf's Finest Act and he was the star. He pulled another couch and flipped a large table hopefully providing him cover and-

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BNAB BAG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

Wolf jumped from cover and blew open a wall, like something from the Matrix. He rolled into the smoldering ashes of the room, picked up the small SMG he had and reloaded it. By this time, the ones at the door had gotten through and as they came one by one, they were gunned down one by one. He finished his clip on the opposing wall and dropped the gun, as he had ran out of ammo. Wolf picked up a carbine and carried on into that door that they all flooded from.

In there was a young, Spanish man in a chair, behind a desk in an office like setting minus all the weapons and drugs scattered all over the place. He loaded his grenade launcher and pointed it at the Spanish man however, he sat in silence as if he were dead. Then Wolf had an idea... and it was not a good one.

Instead of just blowing up him, he pointed his grenade launcher to the right, all whilst looking at this man and-

BOOM!

Goodbye to that giant stash of cocaine. The white powder drifted like snow to the outside, the wall completely and absolutely obliterated. At the bottom were...police cars. Swat vans, turrets, bulldozers, cloakers, hordes of shields and the Captain himself talking to a man in a suit. The Spanish man at the desk started laughing and shot Wolf in the chest with a hand cannon. He shot again but missed. Wolf was grounded and bleeding out to the man stood up and grabbed an ice pick from his desk and walked over to the now dying Wolf. The Spanish man mounted Wolf and slashed at Wolf, scarring his face from eye to chin diagonally. Wolf was blinded but in one fit of rage, he screamed and kicked The Spanish man off of him. The Spanish man fell to the floor and dropped his ice pick. Wolf grabbed it and dragged The Spanish man to his feet, a look of dread in his eyes. Wolf drove the ice pick into The Spanish man's shoulder blade, pushed him to the edge and kicked him our of the building, sending him plummeting down to the bottom, right beside's Captain Winters. Wolf fired a grenade out of the room and down to the bottom where many of the police were. He tried to fire some bullets down to them but found himself to weak to pull the trigger so he just threw the carbine out of the room as well and collapsed to the floor.

"Fucking pigs."

A group of Zeals entered the room and saw what they never thought they would see. A member of the Payday gang, alone, ready to be arrested. Just to see a member of the Payday gang and live was rare but to be able to actually arrest one of the most dangerous members was something else.

"Holy shit." One of the Zeal team exclaimed.


	8. Winter is Coming

The doors flew open and Hox was surrounded. 4 SWAT units surrounded him as he stood around the dead bodies of gangsters. It was rather incriminating.

"Hands behind your head!" One of them yelled as their guns trembled before the scene, along with the trail of death and destruction that they had to crawl through to get here.

"Alright mate, don't get your knickers in a bunch." He dropped all of his weapons and kicked them over to the officers, knowing that fighting would be futile in a situation such as this. "Is there no more justice anymore?"

"Not as long as we are around.." A SWAT officer with a familiar voice interjected before...

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

He felt like he wanted to punch the person with that voice. It was too familiar.

Hoxton didn't even realize what had happened until after all the SWAT had been dispatched. The familiar voice took off his helmet and it was none other than the wanker Houston himself. Maybe he wasn't such a cunt after all.

"Miss me?" He asked in a sarcastic tone

"Wouldn't miss you for a day in my life." He picked up the assault rifle of one of the officers and looked around. "Not gonna bother as to how you did this shit. We have to get W-"

"They got him.."

"What?"

"You're not deaf. You heard me."

"Bloody Hell!" He yelled, not caring about this newfound ballsiness of Houston. He would never tall to Hoxton like that; but not wasn't the time to be questioning tones of voice. "Are we gonna go get 'im?"

"Fuck that."

"You minger! I'll shove yo-"

Before Hoxton could finish his threat, the radio static caught the rooms attention.

" _Yeah, this guy is definitely part of the PayDay gang. He goes by the pseudonym 'Wolf'. We've tranquilized him but to no effect. He hasn't answered any questions and he almost bit off the ear of an officer.."_ The officer on the radio chuckles before coughing and continuing the dispatch " _We're gonna leave him in the back of 'Truck 151' until we can decide where to throw this fucker without him..."_ He paused again to laugh " _biting anyone's ears off. Out."_

 _"_ Well, there we go! Let's get him out and fuck off!" Hoxton said, enthusiastically

"They've brought in the National fucking Guard. There's no chance in Hell that we are getting him out of there." Houston replied, bringing a new splash of pessimism to the air

"Well..." He tried to think of something he could do but he had nothing. There was no great scheme that he could hatch. No master plan. That was it. For now, hopefully.

"Yeah, I thought as much. Now get one of those uniforms on if you want to leave alive. And before you make the comment, we can't just drive him away. It doesn't work like that." He was significantly more serious in tone. Even earlier, he wasn't as dreary.

"Hey, didn't you run off with Wick? Fucking wankers, the both of you."

"Yeah... That didn't turn out so well. I thought I was a perfectionist."

"So you broke up?" Hoxton asked in an insincere and condescending tone.

"Shall I turn your ass into the cops? You are wanted in Illinois as well, you know."

"You wouldn-"

*KSH* "Yeah, dispatch. I think I've seen a second assailant. Location...12th floor, 3rd hall down."

 _"Yeah, we thought there was a second guy. If you see him, do not approach. Are you the squad captain?"_

"Roger that."

 _"Then tell your guys to keep their eyes peeled. Apprehend all other Cobras you come across and note then to us. We'll have a recovery team in there as soon as the area has been sweeper and deemed safe. Round up the rest of the Cobras on your floor and regroup in the roof."_

"Affirmative." Houston turned off the radio and looked back at Hoxton who was standing right next to him, throwing a punch right his way. He couldn't react in time and was subsequently sent onto the floor, cushioned by a dead SWAT officer. Hoxton mounted the now downed Houston and began sending punches left and right, Houston blocking most of them with his hands.

"You're dead you little shit!" Hoxton yelled, his position compromised.

"Rela-" A punch landed directly on the bridge of his nose. "Fucking... Wait. This isn't the 12th floor, dipshit." He managed to throw the full mass of Hoxton off of him before scowering to the corner, his gun trained at Hoxton. He saw this and grabbed a gun, pointing it at Houston.

"Knobhead." Houston dropped the gun and took off his clothes. "You gonna jack off? Turn around!"

Houston complied, as not to insinuate any thing that could be 'wrong'.

Five minutes and some awkward looks later and Hoxton was geared up and ready to get out of here. "I heard there is money in the Boss' office. Like, millions and that. We can ba-"

"Mkay. You can go up, grab the money, get caught, get thrown in a cell then be raped by a Mexican guy named Jesus whos locked up for touching little kids!"

"Point taken..."

They grabbed their guns and made their way Dian the flights of stairs to the first floor where they were met by a large crowd of SWAT and one Captain Winters in the middle, trying to organize this whole fucked operation.

"Alright alright! Calm down you women. We have learned that there was indeed a second operative at work here who goes by the alias 'Hoxton'. He's British and hard to miss. The guy might be wearing one of our uniforms... I want a line up, NOW!" All the SWAT officers, Zeal Team and all others lined up so Houston and Hoxton followed suit.

'Goodbye freedom.'


	9. Talking Heads: Chapter 3

"Wait, his fucking ear?!" The man laughed hysterically.

"Yeah, yeah. So the asshole walks in the room, screaming his fucking lungs out 'The Wolf got my ear! Nein nein!' And ran around, yelling at the top of his lungs. Now, eight then and there I was balls deep in paperwork when all of the sudden the Germ storms in. So, I stand up and ask the fucker what had happened and he said, in the saddest of tones, 'Ze Wolf got mein ear'."

They were both cracking up

"So, what happened?"

"Well, being the saint I am, I check the guys ear and I find nothing."

"Plot twist of the century." He sniggers

"He points to his ear lobe and I notice the smallest of grazes on his ear, less than an inch long and he claims that he got shot in the chest. Now I know a thing or two about getting shot in the chest."

"So that's what they mean when they talk about your incident, with the hookers and the cocaine and the-"

"Fuck you too." He chuckles as they eat their donuts.

Suddenly, he gets a notif on his radio from the Captain himself. " _I need you to notify all the squads that we have confirmed the assailant but be wary as there could be any number of them left. A Zeal team has apparently found somebody."_

"Ah shit."

"Look who just became the caps lap dog."

"Piss off."


	10. Jimmy Timmy Power Hour

The lines were all set up. They weren't rails. These were highways made from the best cocaine Mexico had. To his left were ground up buds of marijuana and to the right, several pipes filled with meth. Smashed lightbulbs could also be used as a makeshift pipe if times got tough. In the floor, people were passed out, dead or otherwise in a drugged out state of their own which disconnected them from the outside world.

"Fuck yeah!" Jimmy yelled at the top of his lungs as he let another line pass through his system.

"The world is ours for the taking!" Tim yelled, just as high as Jimmy. Timmy was an esteemed American drug dealer on a tour throughout Mexico who picked up Jimmy. They then went on a cocaine-fueled bender which led many mobster wanting their heads. Timmy was Jimmy's doppelganger in most ways. They both prided themselves on being suicidally reckless, they were both excessively violent and they both loved carnage wherever they went. Dimly lit rooms and the smell of urine, marijuana and despair were, in essence, their homes. This was where they belonged.

The door flew open and two men opened fire, not really sure what they were aiming at as it wasn't that easy to see. Jimmy and Timmy could almost hear each other think. They were constantly in a synchronized drugged out state which neither could explain.

They threw the table forward towards the men as narcotics rained like snow. Timmy grabbed a knife they used for cutting the coke and lunged at the larger of the two men. Jimmy grabbed a large pistol from the table and opened fire at the armed man. He missed majority of the shits but ended up putting a bullet through his throat. Timmy hand wrapped himself around the other man and stabbed visciously at anything he could. Whenever he had the change, the would plunge the knife into his chest and begin dragging it up to his neck. Jimmy used his final bullet on the other man and killed him on the spot, sending a bullet through his skull and only barely missing Timmy.

"Ah fuck this Tim!" Jimmy yelled, throwing the pistol to the floor and picking up the large machine guns that the thugs were given, Timmy following suit. Everyone in the room had been killed and Jimmy didn't even notice he had been filled with lead until they were already driving off on the dirt road, covered in blood. Timmy was droving but he was completely numb and couldn't feel his hands. His vision bulrred and his senses dulled. He swerved left and right on the track trying to keep focus. His head was pounding and his eyes were bursting in their sockets. Meanwhile, Jimmy was attempting to stop his profuse bleeding as he kept a watchful -or paranoid- on the road, making sure nothing was going to jump up at him from behind a rock.

"They got me good, Tim."

"No shit Sherlock!"

The two burst into laughter before coughing their cocaine-coated lungs out. They couldn't decipher what was real and what wasn't. Focusing on one things was impossible and they somehow felt every emotion at once. It was anger, sadness, happiness and confusion all put in a blender and gone up their noses or veins.

"We have some.. Fucking company!" Tim yelled, a wide grin plastered on his face. Behind them, two vans followed them, men sticking out of the windows with assault rifles pointed at them. Then suddenly, there was a barrage of fire that was directed at their car. They could feel that one of the tires had popped.

"Jimmy, on the wheel!"

Timmy gunned the gas and took a machine gun from the back of the car. Meanwhile, it was Jimmy's job to make sure that they didn't crash which was especially difficult with all the potholes on the road. The positive was that it was long and straight for miles on end. Timmy opened fire on the two vans but with little affect. The sun blinded him and his vision was already impaired. What he did do was piss them off even more. One van drive past them until they were in front. Then the back opened up and what they saw was a dozen men, all with guns aimed at them. Timmy switched his target to the front and, before the men could pull a shot off, Timmy gunned down majority of the men on the back and they all tumbled out accordingly. Jimmy managed to swerve past them but the van behind them couldn't. It flipped over one of the bodies and tumbled down the side of the road, into the cacti that waited below. The van in front sped off into the distance. It was baffling how a van could actually go faster than their muscle car.

"Piss off you right old cunts!" Jimmy yelled as Timmy entered the car and again took the wheel.

"So..." They were both breathing heavily following the strange events that just took place.

"Where do we go?"

"I think I know some guys down the gulf. Or we could just drive to South America. The boys in Colombia will do you good."

"Could we ferry?"

"Would they accept us?"

"Could we pay for it?"

"Fuck yeah. I've got at least a million in change. What about you?"

"I'd say... 20K."

"Oka-"

Tim was interrupted by a cellphone going off. It was Jimmy's. The number was unknown but it wouldn't hurt to answer.

"You're through with Jimmy."

"Its Dallas. Don't ask how I got this number or my knowledge as to where you are. But I need you back."

"Let me tell you what. I'll drive back to DC myself to give you a right fuck-off!"

And with that, Jimmy hung up the phone. The two in the car burst out into laughter again for no particular reason.

"Well then, we're off to the gulf!"


End file.
